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Bathroom stall philosophy.

16 Nov

bathroom stall

Your dreams are almost always here!

So there you go.  No more worrying if your dreams will come true or not, they’re all already here.  You know it must be true if it’s written on the wall of a bathroom stall.

It’s just like if you were to call Jenny, you know you’d have a good time because it says so right there above the toilet next to her number!  Then again, there’s the chance she could make a special kind of dream come true.  *wink, wink*

On “giving up.”

27 Oct

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed a dramatic change in my spirit.  I’ve begun to feel lighter, even starting to believe that maybe this road moving forward doesn’t have to be so bad.  Maybe I can still find joy along this path my life has taken.  I’ve even felt it in my entire body, this joy starting to creep in.

Until yesterday, that is.

Yesterday, when I started my day with a negative pregnancy test.  It’s safe to say that put a little bit of a temporary damper on my spirit.

The tears I fought back during the day came to the surface with the bitter reminder of just how tired I am of all of this.  I know I’ve said that a thousand times before, but it’s times like this where my exhaustion with this comes rushing back and I just want it be over.  After the fourth loss, the last little bit of fight I had in me dissipated; and for my own sanity, I knew I needed to start becoming more comfortable with accepting I may not have a child of my own.  Yet in order for me to fully accept that that may be my fate, I know I have to give it one more try.

So that’s where I am now….trying to give it one more try.  Except I’m anxious for that try to hurry up and get here, because I can’t keep living in this world of not knowing.  Two years with 4 devastating losses has made that world hell.

I know what you are thinking, especially those of you still in the thick of it, still with some fight left in you:  Don’t give up!  You can’t give up!  That’s what I would have said a loss or two ago, back when I still felt in my heart I couldn’t give up until I had that child in my arms.  I couldn’t even fathom how women could even get to the point where they would stop fighting for that.  I couldn’t understand how they could just give up.

That was all before I knew what devastation four losses would bring to me and my life.  After each of their little hearts stopped beating, a part of mine stopped with it.  The part that would do anything to have a baby.  The part that will be forever left with the four I was forced to leave behind.  I am all of a sudden looking into the face of the women I feared so much of becoming.  The part of my heart that wants to keep fighting for this until I have that baby in my arm…has started to slow to a stop.

I know to a lot of you, this probably sounds incredibly sad.  And to the part of me that mourns for the life I thought I was going to have…is incredibly sad by this.  I also know some of you may be frightened you may have to get to this point yourself.  I know what that feels like, I know how scary that is.  But that’s part of why I’m writing this.  It turns out I was wrong all along.  This isn’t giving up.  This is knowing when you’ve done all that your heart can bear.

It’s me trying to stop the pain I keep experiencing from being inside all of this.  It’s me questioning if the pain still feels worth it, and all of a sudden feeling the desire to fight my way out of it all, instead of fighting for what I have desired all along.

If my last try doesn’t work out, I know the road still won’t be easy, at least not until all of my friends and family get out of the “child-bearing” years.  Even then the pain will still be present at every birth I hear about that isn’t my own; but at least now I have faith it will lesson as time passes.  That’s what this has brought me.  I now believe life can still be wonderful and happy, even if the part of me having my own child doesn’t come true.  The part of me that’s lighter is the part of me that is ready to begin new dreams that can take the place of my old dreams.  I need to move on from this chapter in my life so I can start living it again, because while living in this hell, I’ve lost who I was.  And yet at the same time, I know I’ve uncovered a new me that I’m ready to discover.

Please know I’m not saying this to try and convince those of you out there in the midst of this battle to stop fighting.  The chances you’ll have a baby are very much on your side, especially if you still have the fight.  Don’t give that up until you’ve done absolutely all that your heart can bear.  This is simply my story and what my experience has led me to, not your story or where you’ll end up.  I hope you continue to fight and get what you so badly want.  Even if this chapter of my life closes without a baby in my arms, I’ll still fight for you to get yours.  That fight hasn’t ended.  I’m here until the end for all of you.  And maybe in the meantime, you’ll get to see me fight for something new.

Or maybe you will get to see me with one in mine.  I do still have one more try, after all.  And you never know…maybe if we just relax…

Changing my dreams.

20 Apr

Growing up, I always figured I would get married and have two kids. I have just one sister so it was natural to want a family exactly like ours. That dream changed quickly when I met Tim.  Early on when we approached the subject of having children, he admitted to me that he didn’t want to have another.  As much as I loved him, I called it quits. Having a family was too important to me to continue on in the relationship if that wasn’t in his plans. The “break-up” didn’t last long because he said he would be willing to discuss it, and that we did. I loved him too much to just give up. Besides, he was an amazing father to K, and it was his fault in the first place that I wanted children. In fact, up until I met him I wasn’t even sure I wanted them. But as soon as I saw him with his daughter, it was over. I had finally met the man I was going to have a family with, and I wouldn’t be okay with that not happening.

Fast forward two years and Tim wanted a child with me as much as I did (sometimes I think even more). At that point, I’d come to realize I would be fortunate enough to have just one with him, so I started trying to switch things in my mind a bit and became okay with a smaller family. After all, our son or daughter would already have a sibling.  In essence, I’d have my family just as I had pictured it…only slightly different what with the whole other woman’s child thing.  (Minor detail.)

Except, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that in my heart, I have never been able to let go of the thought of having two natural children of my own. As much as I’ve been trying to fool myself into thinking I was okay with just one, I’ve been planning ways to convince Tim to have another all along, and we hadn’t even started trying for our first.

We married and only waited a year before I got pregnant the first time around.

These miscarriages? They weren’t in the plan.  They’ve changed everything.

Up until a few weeks ago, I was still convinced we’d be having two.  But things have started to change dramatically for me.  The longer this takes, and the fact I will have a higher chance of miscarrying again in the future because of my history, I’m just not sure I can go through this all over again.  I have started to only desire one child and feel overwhelmed at the thought of trying for more.  I know that could change the second I hold my baby in my arms, I’m aware of that. I just feel like if I succeed at this, I will be extremely grateful for just the chance to have had one, I’m not sure I’ll want to press my luck for another.  If I can avoid this pain again, I will do everything possible to do so.  Besides, I just don’t know if I have the strength for this battle all over again.

I’m hoping my maternal desire will be fulfilled with one.  If it’s not, I have these pages to remind me of what I went through to get there.  And if I still choose another child over the risk of having to go through this again, I just pray I have the strength to make it through to the other-side.

Have you had to change the way you always envisioned your family because of your struggle with infertility or loss?  If you’ve experienced pregnancy loss, do you think you could do it all over again after a successful pregnancy?  

* Tim’s desire to only have one child is purely monetary.  If we were wealthier and could provide a comfortable lifestyle for more then one child, it would be a no-brainer because we’re going to make really cute babies.  

I’ll be lighter tomorrow.

16 Mar

I’m sure you probably know by now that I’m sensitive.  You may even have an inkling that I’m more sensitive than most.  I’m even convinced that I feel emotions ten-fold compared to the normal human being.  I used to be embarrassed about it, but now I’m starting to understand it a little more and am okay with it.  I know I can’t watch the news or read certain stories, or even watch certain movies.  If I do, either I crawl into a dark hole and cry myself to sleep, or my anxiety goes through the roof and I think we’re all going to die.  Both are such joys!  But because of this part of me, I haven’t been able to face the news of Japan.  It is all beyond imaginable.  I know if I see the extent of the damage and know the total lives lost, I might just stop breathing.  Thursday night, the night before our trip, Tim and I happened to be up to catch the 11:00 news…which was only a half-hour or so after the earthquake hit Japan, and minutes after the tsunami began it’s destruction.  Fortunately, Tim’s Aunt (who, like his mom, is from Japan) happened to be visiting his mom in L.A., so we knew she was safe.  And we haven’t heard otherwise about the rest of her family, so we’re assuming they’re okay.  But I went to bed that night with a heavy heart for Japan; and once asleep, I dreamt that our house was flooding and Took was lost.  The next day as we headed to the mountains, we found out California had a tsunami warning and people were starting to evacuate south of us and in the most northern parts of the state (we live less than 10 miles from the ocean, but we were not assumed to be at risk).  Every time we flipped to a news station on the radio during our drive, they were talking about Japan and I had to change it.  Later that night, our hotel was only a few feet from a strong river, creating constant white noise of water rushing.  I fell asleep to silent panic attacks of the river rising and consuming us, followed by more nightmares of tsunamis.  (Yes, I am a mess.)  I avoided it the rest of the weekend, and even though Tim didn’t want to, he did it for my sake as well.  I seriously don’t know how he puts up with me.

I realize this makes me sound crazy (or at the very least that I should be considering some serious meds), and there are people out there who would shun me for not keeping up with the current events.  But I’m okay with living in the dark.  The sadness I feel for fellow humans and their losses or deaths, is overwhelming to me.  So avoiding it makes my days livable.  I am up-to-date on the important things, and will always manage to find out what’s happening anyway.  I want to clarify that I’m not pretending it didn’t happen, I’m very aware of what’s happened and the amount of lives lost….I just tend to avoid the media coverage of events for my own sanity.  I don’t think I’ve always been like this…I think it’s just gotten worse this past year after everything I’ve gone through.  There are times where I wonder why the hell I want to try to have a kid so badly just to raise it in this world.  It’s scary as shit out there.

I’m not doing so well at that whole keeping-it-light thing, am I?  I need to work on that.  Next time, I swear.

But for now I’m going to keep Japan in my thoughts and in my version of prayers.  I hope you will, too.

If you’d like to donate to the relief efforts in Japan and the Pacific, please visit this link at the American Red Cross.  For more information on how the Red Cross helps, please click here.

I gave birth in a lobby.

18 Feb

Last night I had a dream that I can’t get out of my head, so now you get to hear about it.  Up until today, I had never dreamt of my baby.  I have been pregnant in my dreams, but never anything worth noting, and they have never ended in birth.  Early this morning, I dreamt I gave birth (in a lobby no less) to the most perfect 6-lb-something little baby.  The birth was so easy and quick, at one point I realized I should ask the doctor if I tore (ha!).  I remember thinking it didn’t feel like I did and saying to myself: Wow!  I must be lucky!  But the best part of the dream – the part that keeps coming to mind – was the moment I breast fed for the first time.  My chest was bare and the little one was still naked, and I could feel the light weight of his/her body in my arms (I was also sitting in a wheelchair for some reason, but whatever).  The baby immediately latched on and I felt…complete.  For the next few minutes I just kept looking down at this little baby, beaming with joy.

I was then abruptly woken by a critter in our walls* rearranging it’s furniture (who I’d now like to kill for waking me up from this dream) and I tried to fall back asleep to it, but I wasn’t able to.  It just felt so real.  That little baby was mine…happiness in a dream has never been so palpable.**

*We live in a late-1800’s converted barn, critters are part of the territory.

**Honestly, I don’t know if it’s the no-tearing that makes me happier, or the baby!